


The Final Cut

by KivaTaliana



Series: Swings And Roundabouts [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 17:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KivaTaliana/pseuds/KivaTaliana
Summary: Mycroft makes good on a painful promise.





	The Final Cut

The flat in Baker Street filled with pointless activity. John spent the time writing his blog, Sherlock played the violin, Greg did Mycroft's admin, in consultation via BlackBerry with Anthea, while also minding his four children, in conjunction with Mary and Mrs Hudson. Little Emilia Watson joined in, making five children, and also helping even out the alpha/omega ratio. She was both dominated and cosseted by Will and Georgina, in the same way Nathanial was. Adam crawled about and didn't care either way. 

Mary watched the children's interaction with interest, Greg let it run and allowed the children to work it out themselves. He didn't want to get up, because that just made him need the bathroom as the two upcoming Holmes/Lestrade children would proceed to sit on his bladder. 

Sherlock finished playing the piece he had been working on and then turned. 

"I thought Mrs Hudson was bringing tea?" 

"She did," Greg said. "Half an hour ago." 

He pointed at the teapot and Sherlock's teacup. Sherlock looked at it and turned his nose up. 

"No one told me." 

"We did; you weren't listening." 

"Uncle Sherlock!" 

"Georgina Rebecca Holmes."

Greg watched Sherlock look down at the little girl, who was staring up at him steadily. He smirked to himself; Greg had to admit, only to himself, that he quite liked the way Sherlock dealt with the children. It wasn't as if he treated them like adults, but he didn't seem to treat them as children. They were occasionally something so utterly alien that Greg got the feeling Sherlock examined under some kind of mental microscope. But most of the time he looked amazed at what they did. The fact that they could walk, talk and have opinions seemed to fascinate him.

Georgina pointed at the violin. "I want to play!" 

"That's a special toy of Uncle Sherlock's," Greg started to say, as Sherlock sat down on the sofa. 

"Come here then, and you need to pay attention. If I think you are no good, you will stop." 

"Yes!" Georgina said as she clambered onto the sofa. Greg's objection then registered with Sherlock. He looked up and stared at him in surprise. Georgina reached up to put her hands on the violin. Sherlock kept the instrument out of harm's way but let her take hold of the bow. Georgina started to examine it intently. 

"What is wrong with her learning to play?" 

"Nothing," Greg said. "I just thought you wouldn't want her to." 

Sherlock pondered that and then looked down at the little girl. "Are your fingers sticky?" 

"No!" Georgina said. She propped the bow against her side and held up her hands for Sherlock to look at.

"Very well then," Sherlock said. "Sit in my lap, then I can help you." 

Georgina did as she was told, wriggling to get herself settled, so her back rested against Sherlock's chest, he propped the violin against her shoulder, adjusting slightly. 

"Now you are going to use the bow, and I will make the notes, then we'll swap." 

"Yes," Georgina said, lifting the bow and putting it carefully against the strings. Everyone winced as she dragged it across. 

"Don't do anything until I instruct you properly!" Sherlock snapped. 

Greg frowned, but Georgina didn't turn a hair at the waspish tone of voice, instead she merely stopped, let Sherlock carefully arrange her hold on the bow, and keeping a controlling hand over hers showed her how to do it properly. It was certainly not to Sherlock's standard of playing, and there was the odd grating screech, but Georgina seeming quite pleased with how she was getting on, and since Sherlock didn't stop her Greg presumed he was happy with her progress. Nathanial, who had been pottering around the kitchen, wandered into the living room, his comfort blanket clutched in one hand, draped over his shoulder. He clambered into John's chair and watched Sherlock and Georgina intently. 

After a few minutes Sherlock caused a halt to proceedings. 

"Very good." 

Nathanial appeared to agree as he applauded. Adam crawled across the floor and slowly levered himself up John's chair, staring up at Nathanial, and then turning his head to look at Sherlock and Georgina. Very slowly he turned to wobbled across the gap to Sherlock. Georgina scowled at her younger brother as he latched onto Sherlock's trousers and pointed at the violin with one stubby finger. 

"Go away," Georgina snapped at him. 

"You need to grow up at bit," Sherlock said. 

Adam grinned at them and turned away toddling towards Greg. Greg lowered the laptop, hitting the button to put the screen to sleep so Sherlock couldn't nosy at it. Reaching out to Adam Greg picked him up and grimaced at the smell. 

"Thanks," he informed the little boy. He put him down for a moment so he could lift himself up off the sofa. Then he hoisted Adam up, giving a groan as his back strained. John looked up from his laptop. 

"Are you all right?" 

"I'm fine. For some reason knowing it's twins seem to make my belly heavier, although it has to be psychological." 

There was a screech as Georgina scraped across the violin's strings and everyone in the room winced. Nathanial leant back in the seat, a frown crossing his face. 

"Daddy?" Will asked. Greg turned, slowly moving with Adam in his arms, avoiding treading on Will and Emilia as they looked up at him. 

"Yes, Will." 

"Are we having lunch soon?" 

"Yes, we are," John said. "I'll make sandwiches." 

"I need to change this one's nappy, then should I ring up?" 

John looked up. "Didn't they say they would ring you?" 

"Yes. Mycroft said he would ring me, since he was on local anaesthetic." 

"Oh, yeah, Holmesness getting in the way. Change the baby and then have sandwiches. He will probably call you in his own time. The last thing he needs, in my opinion, is you fussing." 

John was very surprised to find Greg taking him at his word. He went off and changed the baby, then there was organising feeding the children, who ended up picnicking on a rug on the living room floor, with Sherlock also joining in. Greg went back to his admin while eating, until Sherlock, after watching him for a few moments got up from the picnic rug and walked across the room to peer at what he was doing. Just in time Greg hit the sleep button and blanked the screen. 

"That's Mycroft's laptop!"

"Yes," Greg agreed with him. Sherlock frowned and calculated the fact that Greg had been steadily working on it throughout the course of the day. 

"Why are you working on Mycroft's laptop?" 

Greg saw no point in hedging the subject. "Because I'm clearing up his in-folder, as it needs dealing with." 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. 

"You are not playing with his laptop," Greg warned darkly. "We know what happened the last time." 

"Grandpa snored," Will said helpfully. 

"Indeed," Greg said, then became distracted as his phone rang. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

"Thanks for dropping them off," Greg said as his children tumbled into the house, Mary guiding them in through the doorway. 

"No problem. How is he?" 

"It's a bit painful, but it all went well," Greg said. It had been, when he had arrived at the omega centre and ran into a familiar face. 

"He's fine," Jenny, the Scottish nurse, had announced as Greg appeared on the ward. 

"This isn't your ward is it?" Greg asked. 

Jenny had shrugged. "I've worked with you a lot, so sometimes we cross over as familiar people are settling, especially for alphas." 

"True. So... fine?" 

"There's some pain but he's on painkillers, so he's a little groggy." 

Greg debated the idea of putting Mycroft near Sherlock and decided it was not a good idea. He could always get John and Mary to bring the children home. 

"Everything went alright?" 

"Without a hitch," Jenny said walking with him. "He's going to feel sore for a few days, but the stitches will dissolve into the body. If there are any problems then just call the doctor, or bring Mr Holmes back in. I can sort out getting him discharged now." 

"Thanks." 

"He's in room two, at the far end," Jenny said, as they paused at the nurses station. Greg nodded and headed off to see what he was dealing with. A lingering alpha eyed him in interest, but it went no further than that. As a general rule Greg gave off enough of a vibe to put strange alphas off, and most were too polite to start harassing omegas anyway, as it was the height of bad form to do so. Plus, Greg's, now psychologically, large stomach was a clear hint he had an alpha already. 

As he reached the end of the corridor he carefully put his head around the door of the room, wondering what he was likely to find. 

Mycroft lay back on the bed, looking exhausted, and paler than usual. That was likely to be the pain, Greg concluded. He didn't open his eyes as he heard someone come into the room, but Mycroft did open them as Greg asked. 

"How is it?" 

Mycroft's eyes looked slightly red, and Greg might have presumed he had been crying, if he didn't know Mycroft well enough to know that wasn't a possibility. 

"Sore," Mycroft confessed, which was likely to be his only word on the subject. And it was revealing enough. He would never have said that to anyone else, after years of living with him Greg knew he was the only one who Mycroft would reveal anything like that to. It was again, even now, as if it was a parameter of the relationship that he had to follow. Because Greg told him thoughts and feelings, Mycroft seemed to do the same. 

"That's to be expected. Jenny's getting the paperwork sorted to discharge you. I'll take you straight home, then I'll either go and get the kids, or John and Mary can drop them off." 

Mycroft had closed his eyes again, finding that solution entirely acceptable. Greg backed off and left him to it. 

"I'll find Jenny and get this paperwork done. Are you all right walking to the car?" 

"I will be," Mycroft said. 

Greg, now, didn't tell Mary that Mycroft hadn't even tried that and let himself be wheeled to the entrance. It wasn't likely to get back to Sherlock in any obvious form, but he would work it out. But Greg wasn't going to give out any information on the subject. 

"Thanks anyway, I'll need to..." 

"No worries," Mary said, taking the hint and heading towards the car, giving him a friendly wave before she clambered in. Greg went to go and locate the children, who had gathered in the kitchen. 

"Can we have crackers?" Nathanial asked. 

"Yes." 

"Is daddy okay?" Will asked. 

Greg shifted Adam on his hip and looked down at the three children staring up at him. 

"Daddy is fine, he's just resting. I will go and check on him while you eat your crackers." 

"Okay, Daddy," Georgina said, in a tone that told Greg she had certainly made her mind up about something. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Mycroft turned his head, suddenly conscious of someone watching him. He looked at three pairs of eyes staring steadily. Four pairs in fact, as a dark furry face came into his eye line as Bee appeared on the bed next to him. 

"For you daddy," Will said. 

"Thank you," Mycroft said, allowing Will to tuck the cuddly toy to his side. 

"And we brought you some ice cream," Georgina announced. Mycroft stared at the half-melted goo in the plastic bowl. 

"Thank you," he said. 

"Leave it on the bedside table, daddy can eat it in a minute," Greg said. 

"We brought daddy some stories," Will added. Nathanial obligingly held up the books. "We were going to read." 

"Leave them there for later. Daddy still needs to sleep." 

Nathanial put the books very carefully down on the side of the bed and Greg herded the three children out, telling them to go and play nicely. They probably would for a little while, and would no doubt linger in the corridor nearby to do so. 

"Is Daddy all right?" Will asked, slightly anxiously. 

"Yes, Daddy is fine," Greg said. "He's just not feeling to well at the moment, but he'll be better soon." 

Mycroft closed his eyes and listened to Greg's soothing tone, trying to let the reassuring words and tone work on him. The pain throbbed dully, although the medication he had been given took the edge off what he felt. Still, Greg's calming tone worked just as well, as Mycroft let it convince him that he was fine. 

"It's like watching worshippers leaving gifts at the alter of a Pagan god," Greg mused as he returned, tidying up the bed sheets, putting the books on the bedside cabinet and he picked up the bowl of ice cream. 

"I'm Church of England," Mycroft informed him weakly as Greg headed to the en suite bathroom and dropped the half-melted ice cream down the toilet, flushing it away. Greg decided he had better add bleach at some point. As he came back into the bedroom he said. 

"I don't want her to think you didn't eat it. And you, most definitely, count as Pagan." 

Greg gave no explanation of that comment, instead he leant over to drop a light kiss onto Mycroft's forehead. 

"How are you feeling?" Greg asked gently. 

"Fine." In a tone that told Greg Mycroft was not fine. Greg looked at him carefully, assessing the fact that it was just the pain, not him regretting what he had done. He had done it in Greg's best interests, and Greg had very carefully prodded his own feelings to make sure it wasn't a knee jerk reaction to finding out he was carrying twins. Because it wasn't. They had a large family, part of it by fault rather than design but it was all there, and this resolution meant that anything between them could continue unhindered, which was Greg's motivation for letting Mycroft do this. Greg was getting to the point of thinking his body might give up fairly soon if he continued to brood as he was. 

"Okay, do you want me to stay with you?"

"Yes, please."

Greg put the now empty bowl down and carefully sat down on the bed, shifting backwards so he could rest back against the headboard and Mycroft shuffled closer to him. Greg settled back and wasn't surprised when Mycroft went straight back to sleep. 

XxxxxxxxxxxxxX

Mycroft felt warm and heavy when he woke again, and Greg's slow, steady, tone paused as he realised Mycroft had started to rouse. He looked around. Greg sat on the bed, next to the headboard and the children were gathered at the end, snuggled under a blanket at the footboard, listening to Greg avidly, which meant he was probably reading something new to them.

At he paused, looking down at Mycroft the children looked from Greg to him. Mycroft glanced at the window, the light outside had dimmed and Greg was reading by torchlight. 

"What are you reading?" Mycroft asked. 

"Harry Potter," Greg said. 

"Can we read to Daddy now?" Will asked. 

"Yes," Greg said, reaching for one of the books they had brought. Will took it from him and carefully opened it, spreading it out on his lap. Nathanial pointed at the torch Greg was holding. Obligingly Greg passed it over and Nathanial pointed the beam at the page. Will huffed irritably. 

"I can do it!" Georgina said. 

"No!" Will snapped and then before the children could start squabbling Greg opened his mouth to intervene, and something interesting happened. 

"Will first, you can read the second one," Nathanial piped up in a voice that was, Mycroft commented later, exactly the same kind of tone that Greg would use. Both alpha children stared and then did as they were told. Greg looked down at Mycroft and winked. 

Mycroft closed his eyes and listened to Will's voice rolling through a story he knew well. Something to do with a dog that peed on a rock. It was a favourite of his. His eldest son's voice was suitably soothing, but what was more so was Greg's fingers running through his hair. Mycroft let it all happen, feeling the dull throb of his operation. He had painkillers which he could take but he felt no desire to ruin the moment of his family around him. 

Sherlock had often sniped at Mycroft for being isolated. It had become worse when he had made friends with John. Having a friend was something Sherlock could do better than Mycroft. And he had been less than pleased when Mycroft had contracted Greg, who had previously been Sherlock's, in his eyes. Mycroft wasn't quite sure how Greg felt about that. 

There was, Mycroft confessed only to himself, a level of spite to it. He could take one of Sherlock's toys. However, once he had got to that point he felt a little unsure how to manage the situation. The only thing he had to work with on that was Greg, who was quietly assertive, never took advantage of Mycroft's compliance with anything he desired and had produced six children. Ensuring that he didn't foist any more on him was the least Mycroft could do. Not that Greg didn't love every one of his children. 

Mycroft was contemplating his life as he drifted off, his mind registering the change of voice as Georgina started reading her story. 

"Right, that's enough now," Greg announced when both children had ploughed their chosen books. Nathanial's choice lay discarded, but their omega son had been carefully staring at Mycroft, more aware than his alpha siblings of his father's pain. The sky outside was now dark. Greg flipped on the bedside light and looked at his children. 

"Now, you can all go in the bath together and then bed." 

"I'm not getting in with boys!" Georgina objected. 

"Well, you can just be smelly then," Greg announced. 

As far as Mycroft could work out, sharing a bath with her brothers was less awful than smelling as she clambered off the bed and followed Will and Nathanial. 

"Are you all right?" Greg said as he carefully clambered off the bed. 

"I will be fine." 

"I'll sort them out then feed you. Are you hungry?" 

"I'm not sure." 

"I've made something light anyway. I won't be long."

"I will be here," Mycroft said. Greg smiled, that smile that confused Mycroft. It seemed to hold some irritation, but also tenderness, as if Mycroft's behaviour was something that he had to endure, but found familiar and reassuring. Greg ran his fingers through Mycroft's hair. 

"I won't be long." 

Mycroft didn't say it but he wanted Greg to take his time. He had found the children a little wearing, which wasn't their fault. And he wanted to have a moment alone, more than anything else, he wanted time alone with Greg. 

When he awoke again that was exactly what he had. Greg was again sat on the bed with Mycroft's laptop, typing something. As Mycroft stirred he paused. 

"What are you doing?"

"Your last few emails," Greg said. Mycroft slowly moved, wincing as he felt the stitches and as he settled Greg passed the laptop over and moved the pillows to make Mycroft more comfortable. Mycroft quickly skimmed the work that had been done by Greg throughout the day, finding nothing that seemed blatantly wrong, although he wouldn't have worded things in quite the same way. 

"I had Anthea as back up." 

Mycroft nodded, adding a finishing touch to a report and then closed the laptop. 

"I will look at it tomorrow." 

Greg took the laptop off him again and put it to one side, after pressing the button to turn on sleep mode. Mycroft frowned as he watched. 

"Sorry, habit of being around Sherlock." 

"He saw nothing?" 

"He saw me using it," Greg said. "And tried to access it, but he presumed the password was something you thought of."

"And how is that going to cause a problem for him?" 

"Because he tried my name, the kids names, and a lot of combinations therein. He thinks you've gone sentimental."

"Heaven forbid." 

Greg smirked. "I've got some soup ready for you." 

"Soup I can handle." 

"Okay. I'll get it. You went to sleep on me while I was putting the kids to bed." 

"I apologise."

"Don't worry about it," Greg said amiably, which was probably down to the fact his instinct was happy with the idea of cosseting his alpha. "I'll get the soup, and do you want any more painkillers?" 

"Wait until later, when I will want to sleep."

Greg nodded. "I won't be long." 

Mycroft sat up, moving slowly as the pain throbbed, but it seemed to have receded from earlier. He didn't want to go to sleep again, he had slept quite enough for now. He wanted to spend some time with Gregory, which would be soothing, without the children, who were calming in their own right, but Mycroft's alpha still felt a prior claim over Gregory, and something in him didn't like sharing. 

Ten minutes later Greg came back with a legged tray loaded with a bowl of soup, two bread rolls and a glass of brandy. Mycroft had sat up, trying to look less feeble. 

"Here you go." 

"Where did you find that tray?" Mycroft asked. It was perfectly sized to hold everything and also kept any pressure off his lap, and he was fairly certain it was unfamiliar. He took a light sip of soup. 

"I bought it, just in case... it might be useful for the kids," Greg said, flushing slightly making it quite obvious that he had bought it for this occasion, just in case. Mycroft looked up at Greg though slightly lowered eyelids, although, despite the flush Greg didn't look entirely embarrassed, because he knew he was right. 

"Of course," Mycroft said in agreement, and put the spoon aside for a moment to sip the brandy. 

"Mrs Philips made the soup though, I didn't get the time, so she valiantly stepped in." 

"You can't do everything." 

"True, between managing our four, soon to be six, children; running your office; controlling your insane family; working at Scotland Yard; working with Sherlock,"

"You've said that already," Mycroft said going back to the soup. "Sherlock."

"I only mentioned Sherlock once." 

"Controlling my insane family?" Mycroft pointed out. 

"Yes, that is a separate thing from working with Sherlock - he's less insane then, and the family includes your parents as well." 

"What is wrong with my parents?" 

"Nothing," Greg said. "I love your parents." 

"Your children are also my family." 

"Our children are not insane," Greg said. And as if on cue there was a yell from the hallway. 

"Daddy!" 

"Then again," Greg said rolling his eye and heading out to find Will, Mycroft heard Greg's soothing tone as he spoke to his eldest son and slowly coaxed him back to bed. When Greg returned Mycroft had put the tray to one side and had settled down, looking smug. Greg eyed him for a moment before picking up the tray.

"I'll dump this downstairs, then I'm coming to bed."

"It is eight thirty in the evening," Mycroft said. 

"I can tell the time, Mycroft."

"And are you aware... " Mycroft paused as Greg turned to look at him, raising his eyebrows. "You are part of this family, and therefore, also insane." 

"Yes, Mycroft, I am aware of that." 

Mycroft looked at Greg who smirked back. Greg put the tray down with a thump onto a nearby surface, discarding it completely. 

"In fact, sod that, that can wait until the morning." 

"I fear that I am somewhat useless to you at the moment," Mycroft said as Greg stripped and clambered into the bed. Very carefully Greg arranged them both and snuggled next to Mycroft, who rested against him, inhaling Greg's scent. 

"You, Mycroft, are never useless to me." 

Mycroft relaxed, quite abruptly, and inhaled Greg's scent again. Greg smirked, tightening his grip on Mycroft, curling himself close to the alpha. 

"Glad to hear it," Mycroft said, and then added after a pause. 

"I wouldn't want to cut myself off completely."


End file.
